


Wanted

by nihilistic_trout



Category: RWBY
Genre: Clover wears reading glasses, Established Relationship, Fair Game Week (RWBY), Fair Game Week 2020, M/M, Qrow Branwen - Freeform, Semblances, clover ebi - Freeform, supportive boyfriends
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-16
Updated: 2020-03-16
Packaged: 2021-03-01 00:01:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,525
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23175847
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nihilistic_trout/pseuds/nihilistic_trout
Summary: With Clover's support, Qrow works on controlling his Semblance.
Relationships: Qrow Branwen/Clover Ebi
Comments: 20
Kudos: 101





	Wanted

**Author's Note:**

> Fair Game Week 2020 Day 1: Semblances. 
> 
> I'm so thrilled to finally be posting this. It's an idea I've had in my head for quite a while.
> 
> This work has no beta so all mistakes (hopefully there aren't many) are my own. Also, note that the T rating is only for a tiny bit of language, nothing more. I thought I'd bump it up from a G rating just to be safe.
> 
> Enjoy!

Qrow rolled the coin along the backs of his fingers and stared down the tower of stacked blocks in front of him. Thirteen layers high, because why the hell not, each slightly off-kilter so that all it would take was the barest nudge to knock them to the floor. He kept his breathing even and focused on his Semblance. It felt the same as it always did, bristling like static across his skin, close but forever out of reach. He tried to push that fitful energy into the coin, following Clover’s advice to “brush it in”, whatever the hell that meant. But it worked just about as well as it had the last fifty times he had tried it. 

He just needed the tower to fall. Or to waver. Something. Anything.

With a small sigh, he caught the coin in his hand and tapped his fingertips against it. Maybe he needed something more personal?

“How’s it going?”

Qrow glanced up. Clover sat on the opposite side of the small living room, lounging back against the wall with his legs splayed out in front of him. He had a book propped open on his lap and about a dozen others stacked neatly on the floor next to him, all of them with insane titles like _The Inner Workings of Semblances on a Metaphysical Level_ and _Semblances and the World: How Environmental Factors Impact Outward Semblance Expression_. All of it theory and all of it dense as hell. Qrow had no idea how his partner was still awake, much less focused. 

Especially since none of it seemed to be helping.

“I don’t think this is working,” he said, waving a hand at the little tower of blocks. It hadn’t so much as shifted since he had sat down.

Clover tilted his head and examined the tower over the rim of his reading glasses, then shrugged. “It takes a while.”

“Or mine can’t be focused like yours can.”

“ _Or_ it takes a while,” Clover repeated with that infuriatingly certain smile. 

Qrow glared at him. There was no heat to it, really. He was just tired, and his head hurt and after weeks of trying to shift his Semblance into focus through the coin, he was starting to think it couldn’t be done. Clover heaved a sigh that was far too dramatic for the circumstances and set his book to the side, standing and stretching his arms over his head.

“Alright,” he said. “Let’s try something else. Close your eyes.”

Qrow cocked an eyebrow. “How is that going to–”

“Would you just do it?”

“Yes, sir,” he muttered, pouring as much sarcasm into the words as he could. 

Clover only smirked and shook his head.

Qrow resisted the stupid urge to poke his tongue out at him before he shut his eyes and rolled his shoulders back, trying to ease some of the tension out of his muscles. He rubbed his thumb across the surface of the coin, warmed from his handling of it, and reached out again for his Semblance. It rippled and played through his fingers, almost physical but not quite, like a thick shadow. Every time he thought he might be able to grab hold of some errant scrap, it melted away.

He was so focused that he nearly missed the sound of movement around him: quiet footsteps circling around behind and warmth against him before familiar fingers carded through his hair. The delicate string connecting him to his Semblance snapped, all of that prickling energy dissolving into the air. He tried to fight a smile but it was annoyingly difficult.

“That’s not helping,” he said.

Clover hummed, his voice low and close. “I disagree.”

Qrow tilted his head back and opened his eyes. Clover dropped to his knees behind him, close enough now that Qrow could feel the press of him against his back, the contact feather-light. 

“How do you figure that?” he asked, and as Clover dragged his nails lightly across his scalp and down the back of his neck, Qrow’s voice dropped into something dangerously close to a moan.

Clover shifted forward and his face came into view above him. He wore one of those rare soft expressions, the ones he normally reserved for when they were alone. “You’ve been going all morning, sweetheart. Let yourself rest.”

Qrow frowned. Once, not so long ago, he would have lashed out at that suggestion. Resting meant standing still. Standing still meant letting everything catch up to him. His Semblance, yes, but it turned out there were worse ghosts than even that. Unfortunately, those ghosts had gotten so tangled up in his Semblance that he had long ago lost track of where one ended and the other began. The specialists in Atlas thought that might be part of the problem. They said he had to learn to reach out to it without the hate. Without the fear. It was harder than he had thought it would be.  
  
He leaned back against Clover and shut his eyes again. “Any idea how I might do that?”

Clover chuckled warmly. “I have a few.”

He slid one of his hands to the back of Qrow’s head to take the strain off his neck, and then he bent down and kissed him, his mouth warm and gentle and more than welcome. Qrow shivered and gave himself up to it, always a little shocked at how easily that surrender came to him. He had been with people before who made everything feel like a battle, submission or dominance, and even keeping track of himself in the midst of all of that had been a struggle. But Clover just felt… safe. Natural. Like breathing. Qrow reached up to rest his hand on the back of his neck and pulled him a little closer, parting his lips in an invitation that Clover readily accepted with a soft groan. Gods, he could melt into that.

The distinctive _swish_ of his apartment door opening broke through the internal calm that had just started to take root, and a second later someone uttered a soft, startled “Oops”.

The tower by his feet abruptly tumbled, the blocks scattering across the carpet with tiny, muted thuds. 

Qrow pulled away. He stared at the blocks and then looked over to the door where Ruby stood waving awkwardly at them, red-faced. Qrow scowled and looked back up at Clover.

“Maybe it _was_ working,” he grumbled.

Clover laughed. He moved his hands down to Qrow’s shoulders and settled down behind him, his thumb rubbing small circles against the bare skin at the back of his neck. 

“Sorry,” Ruby said, punctuating the apology with a sheepish smile.

Qrow fixed her with one of his more irritated stares. His thoughts ricocheted between the fact that the blocks _had_ finally fallen and the realization that apparently, he was going to have to go through yet another discussion with his nieces about his privacy. It had never mattered much before because he had always been on his own but now… well, they were so used to barging into his space without announcing themselves that there had already been a couple of close calls. He suspected they had Clover’s luck to thank for the fact that none of those instances had been worse, but his own was bound to take over eventually.

“You know, you could just turn and leave, kiddo,” he said. “No sound necessary.”

“Oh,” she said, as if the thought hadn’t occurred to her. “Well… I guess…?” She laughed and scuffed her boot against the polished tile floor of his entryway. And stayed right where she was.

Qrow shook his head and ran a hand over his face to hide the smile trying to break out. He could never stay annoyed with her for long. “Did you need something?”

“I don’t want to interrupt if you’re busy…”

“Great job on that.”

“But I was hoping for a training session maybe…?” her voice trailed off and she looked from Clover behind him to the fallen blocks in front of him and scrunched her nose up in confusion. “Are you guys playing games?”

“No,” he said, a little too quickly. 

Clover snickered behind him and Qrow threw an elbow back into his ribs, sharp enough that his boyfriend’s laughter cut off with a muffled grunt. 

Gods, he didn’t need _that_ reminder. There had been one hell of an argument when Clover had first presented the idea because the blocks _were_ from a game, some strategy and luck-based thing where players took out one piece at a time until the whole thing fell over. Clover said he had practiced with them when he was younger, which had annoyed the hell out of Qrow. He was forty years old, for fuck’s sake, he didn’t need to practice with a kids’ game. And then Clover had forced him to admit that he had about as much control over his Semblance as a kid might, so he really couldn’t bitch about the methods. 

Qrow had spent that entire first session trying to will his Semblance into spilling Clover’s drink down his pristine white shirt rather than knocking over the damned tower. Maybe not an overly productive use of his time but it had been worth it in the end, even if his efforts aligning with the result really had been mostly… luck.

“We’re just… never mind,” he said, “doesn’t matter. You want to train?”

She looked back to him and grinned, rocking on her heels. “Yeah.”

“With me.”

“Of course with you, silly. Who else?”

He shrugged. “Your team, maybe? Kinda got the impression you were getting pretty solid in your own technique.”

“I mean, I am,” she said. “But I can always learn more, right? Besides, you’ll always be better than I am so you should always have something to teach me.”

Qrow twisted around and gave Clover a gravely serious look. “I want you to remember that she said that. _Always_.”

Clover’s lips twitched into an amused, lop-sided grin. “Noted. And go ahead. You really should let yourself rest from this for a while. Maybe some physical activity will help.”

Qrow nodded but he hesitated and looked back at the blocks, a thought occurring to him.

“Go get us a room, kiddo,” he said. “I’ll meet you there. There’s something I want to check.”

“Thanks, Uncle Qrow!” Ruby surged forward across the room and wrapped him in a tight hug, released him with a loud kiss pressed to his cheek, and then bounced back towards the door. “See you later, Clover.”

“Bye, Ruby,” Clover said. As soon as the door closed, he squeezed Qrow’s shoulder. “What’s up?”

Qrow held up a finger and leaned forward to reassemble the tower, carefully mimicking the set-up from before so that it was just barely stable. Then he scooted backward and settled into Clover’s lap. 

Clover wrapped both his arms around Qrow and pressed a small, chaste kiss to the side of his neck. “Not that I'm complaining, but should I be following any of this?” 

“Hush,” Qrow said. He leaned back against Clover’s chest and let that comfort and safety from before curl around him. “Just… be you for a minute.”

Clover grinned against his skin. Another tender kiss tickled the spot behind his ear. “One whole minute? I don’t know. That’s a tall order, Branwen.”

Qrow snorted. “Okay, be you but shut up.”

That startled out a bark of laughter that Clover quickly tried to muffle against the collar of Qrow’s shirt, his body shaking with the effort. 

Qrow smiled softly and shifted so he could rest his head back against Clover’s shoulder, then he closed his eyes and reached out for his Semblance. It came to him willingly, almost aggressive in its eagerness. Apprehension jolted through Qrow but this time, instead of trying to bury that fear, he… cushioned it. He focused on the way Clover felt against him, the rise and fall of his chest against his back, the warmth of his hands on his sides, the sheer steady _weight_ of his presence. He focused on the way that, for the first time in his life, he felt solid. Real. Like he existed outside of what other people expected or needed or wanted from him. Part of that was Clover but most of it wasn’t; Qrow had felt that change taking place somewhere deep inside for a while now. But Clover had certainly become a catalyst for it.

The coin warmed in Qrow’s hand and he allowed a fragment of his attention to drift back to it. His Semblance felt different now, still restless but somewhat more tangible. He didn’t try to grab for it, though. Instead, he gently nudged it towards the coin. Almost immediately, the air around his hand thickened, as if his Semblance were some physical thing going to inspect it. Curious. That was how it felt. Curious and so very fragile.

He turned his head slightly and pressed his nose against Clover’s cheek, and breathed him in. Strong. Stable. _There_ and so damn certain of being so, like it was the best place he could hope to be. He made Qrow feel so… wanted. 

The air in the room _snapped_. Qrow flinched, both surprised at the physicality of the release, and slightly panicked that maybe he had let too much of it build up and he was about to shatter every mirror in his apartment. The tower by his feet toppled over with so much force, it was like someone had taken a swing at it. That same energy pulsed outward past the blocks and skittered all the way to the opposite wall where it slammed against Clover’s careful stack of books and sent the top three sliding off onto the floor. In the kitchen, the dishes in his sink shifted and shattered.

Clover went perfectly still against him. For a long, drawn out moment, they both stared at the microcosm of wreckage strewn out across the floor. Qrow didn’t realize he was shaking a little until one of Clover’s hands pressed against his chest, steadying him. Whether it was from relief or shock or adrenaline or some combination of all three, he had no idea. 

“Are you okay?” Clover asked after a moment, almost whispering.

“Yeah,” he said, clearing his throat when his voice came out thready. “Just… didn’t expect that to actually work.”

“What did you do?” 

Qrow laughed unsteadily and shook his head. “Not sure I can put it into words yet.”

Clover nodded as if he understood completely. Hell, he probably did. “Do you think you can repeat it?”

“Maybe. Probably.” He shifted to look at Clover and shrugged. “I’ll probably need you here the first couple of times, though.”

Clover studied him for a moment, his expression soft and curious and a dozen other things Qrow hadn’t dared to name yet. Then he grinned and squeezed him. “Well, that’s easy enough. I’m not going anywhere.”

Qrow breathed out something between a sigh and a laugh. He leaned his head against Clover’s and reached up to thread their fingers together, and let the truth of that finally sink in. 

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, Qrow is practicing with a Jenga set ;)


End file.
